


Breaking Points

by LilithLeeLynn



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 21:26:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4153539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilithLeeLynn/pseuds/LilithLeeLynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither of them have ever known anything but war. How do two people cope with years of loneliness while trying to save everything they hold dear? When the pressure cracks down, Zenith and the Jedi try so find comfort in each other. (Contains spoilers for Jedi Consular storyline)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Points

It started a few months ago, but neither one of them was really sure how it began.

They were arguing, about Grey Star and the refugees, in the conference room that day. Voices were raised, aggressive arm gestures, fists hitting the table, enough indicators to tell everyone else on the ship to make themselves scarce. 

And they did. One could hear doors sliding shut with final locks, or the air lock engaging so various individuals could escape to the outside world. 

Where was the ship even docked at that moment? Did it even matter?

In the conference room, the Jedi had closed the door in a hurry once Zenith started about how he couldn’t trust his own people, his tone letting more onto his feelings than intended. Sadness? No...anger? Still not the right word.

Zenith clenched his hands and felt a thin layer of sweat seep under his nails, knuckles flexed and tight. His jaw stiffened and nostrils flared.

Utter betrayal? Was that the feeling? The phrase still didn’t do what Zenith felt justice. Emotion ruled over him, it’s reign so mysterious and strong. He hadn’t let this kind of wave take him over in quite some time.

What was it she said? Something like, “Take a deep breath,” with far too much ease, hands in a defensive stance, “and explain what’s going on.”

Although the exact words were forgotten, the emotions they sparked were the most tangible part of the memory. The frustration crawled under Zenith’s skin, working it’s way up his back and to his skull, forcing him to shiver in response. The serenity of the Jedi could really get to him sometimes. Her gentle voice was indeed soothing, but she never expressed feeling--rage, for one. Maybe her voice was what started this all in the first place? Or maybe it was the loss of composure, the rush of blood and emotional turmoil, that actually did them both in?

She had said something along the lines of “It wasn’t their fault, they had no choice,” in a soft tone. Damn her, and that effortless naivete. So blind, no perspective on what Balmorra was--what it went through.

Zenith retorted with just as much anger as before, a harsh bite that was unintentionally directed at her. “They’re collaborators, they deserve to be punished!”

She said something else, but it’s hard to remember. She urged for understanding, “calm reason”, as she called it. “They had no choice,” she repeated.

“Not good enough!” he spat back and stuck a finger in her face.

“Don’t,” she said with emphasis, “raise your voice at me.” The command was swift like her orders on the battlefield, only this time the tone harbored a certain dominance. A dominance that refused to be bullied or overrun by irrational emotion. Zenith could appreciate that, however, was not impressed.

Her mouth was in a fine line, brows scrunched together and a hard look in her eyes, a look that Zenith had seen only on the revolutionists standing their ground. It was strength that mingled with caution; it was a warning to not test her.

This was a part of the Jedi he never knew existed. He had fought with her many times, seen the power she possessed, the determination behind each strike, but never had that been directed at a comrade.

He quickly shook off the last grip of that stare and gave the Jedi a stern look, never breaking that eye contact as he began pacing back and forth. “That’s emotional for a Jedi,” he said gruffly.

She took a few steps towards him with that same look in her eyes, “There’s nothing wrong with standing up for one’s self, Zenith. Of all people, you would understand that best.” Now she was close, within a breath’s reach.

Something else was said, something not grossly important, just easy enough to forget. Zenith looked down to the floor and growled in frustration. “The Imperials would have offered anything for intelligence about Balmorra.” He shook his head and placed his hands on his waist.

They exchanged more heated words, Zenith yelling about how the refugees should be put in chains, and the Jedi clinging onto her morals and insisting for forgiveness, or understanding. The battle raged on for a few more minutes until Zenith had somehow back her into the table when she tried to give him space. It was meant as a gesture of understanding, allowing him to pace about as he saw fit. Zenith, however, saw it as a defense and closed in for the verbal kill. She never cowered though, only challenged.

“You need to learn forgiveness,” she stated. The tone was rougher than anything she had ever used, something brimming under that well acted facade. 

Zenith hovered over her, standing a few inches taller. “Always, Jedi words,” he grumbled in a low voice. He then scowled and scoffed, “You’re too trusting,” he said, “like Grey Star.”

It was then that they just stared at each other, waiting for the other to act.

It’s hard to recall who did it, who was the first to act, or who was the first to break eye contact, but it happened.

Their first kiss was uncertain, a little clumsy even, lips awkwardly aligned and not quite puckered as if second guessing the whole thing midway through. But soft… Everything was soft. Her lips, the pressure--even the mood that once boiled, had transformed into a new kind of charge. A surge that they felt shoot right up their spines and stir butterflies in their stomachs.

But maybe that was it? Was it because of that tension, the racing hearts and fuming tempers, that caused their release of emotion? How does one even cope with this kind of stress and heartbreak...

In a quick motion, Zenith pulled back, eyes turned away in embarrassment. Why in the worlds would he kiss her? His hands had somehow found their way up the Jedi’s arms, so he yanked them back to his side.

But, the Jedi pulled him in for more. Her gloved hands grasped the sides of his head just right under his ears and kissed him hard.

The second time was much better than the first. She matched the pressure just right with a fragile yet tenacious sense of urgency as her hands slowly moved around his head to keep him from pulling away again. She moved his head to the side as she went the opposite way, better locking them into place. 

And he kissed her back.

Without his control, Zenith’s hands went back to her arms and slid up to her shoulders to grip gently. She felt so strong under his touch, so stable. Almost like a tether to his more humane side, giving him a chance to feel the passion and instinct that lay buried deep, deep, within him.

A sharp inhale of air through his nose brought Zenith back to reality. He carefully removed her hands and backed away from her and the oval conference table, never looking her in the eyes or even bringing his head up.

Zenith turned his back to her and quickly made his way to the large double doorway. “Have to think this over myself,” he quietly said over his shoulder to her, pinching the space between his eyes in frustration. “Decide what needs to be done,” he whispered more to himself than the Jedi.

So, he left her that day, alone in the conference room wondering what was to happen next as he decided the fates of many hopeful individuals.

\-------------

When she came to him a few days later, it was no surprised that there was still a lingering tension in the air. A certain hyper awareness of the other’s movements and darting eyes around the storage room where Zenith liked to spend his time.

They hadn’t spoken since their argument in the conference room. She hadn’t even asked for his help on missions. Just left him alone.

Now they both were in the storage room, dim lights and dark corners with crates stacked atop one another as towers to hide behind.

“Zenith,” she called softly with that voice, “we need to talk.” 

It really is a struggle to remember their conversations each time it happens.

She said she was distracted on the mission, that she almost died.

Zenith was quiet and then stepped out of the shadows of the far corner. “You need me around to keep you alive,” he said.

She gave him a weak smile and stepped closer. Something wasn’t quite right about her, she seemed off.

And there they were again, only this time closer and more secluded.

Zenith had pulled her into the back corner where he was sitting, gripping her arms with so much force he thought he would leave bruises, and kissed her.

Hot pants escaped between each brief separation as they fought to get closer to the other, never quite reaching satisfaction. Their swollen wet lips puckered, fingers roamed through hair, over bare skin, down sensitive Lekku, to later dig into strong shoulders.

Neither of them dared to open their eyes, not wanting to acknowledge the momentum the kiss was gaining, just basking in the glow of the sensation of touches and pleasure. A whirlwind of a storm that struck them both with an electrifying need for release, a greedy hunger that needed to be sated.

Zenith slipped his hands under the Jedi’s simple robe and helped her shrug it off to reveal her naked shoulders and simple tank top. He needed to feel her, that skin to skin contact, to give something tangible to this surreal instance. He couldn’t stop kissing her, just feeling her in every possible way he could, that unnaturally soft skin making him insane and driving him to crave more of it.

He had never struggled this way before. There was this pang in his stomach that yearned for more physical contact, but his mind’s cautionary cry was muffled by this steamy hazed caused by hushed panting and occasional moans that sounded when a lip was gently bit. The naggy was still there though, in the distance, just far enough to ignore but still heard.

The Jedi’s robe was still tied around her waist and getting in the way of Zenith pulling her shirt off. In one rough yank, the tie was gone and the garment fell to the floor with a soft thud. He proceeded to then peel her tank top off, which she assisted with, and embraced her.

She was a well endowed woman, her breasts bulging against his chest and fighting to escape her bra. Zenith’s hands began to explore again, fingers grazing along toned back muscles, shoulders, then down to the hips, every part of her pushing against his hands to feel more contact--to feel that intimacy that neither of them ever had.

The Jedi quickly made work of Zenith’s jacket that she bought him long ago after they first met. She pushed the leather jacket off him and began trying to lift the thin shirt over his head. He finished the job for her and tossed it to the side with their other clothes.

It was at that moment that they both paused and reflected on their choices.

They were only a few inches apart, both staring down at the other’s body to examine the fine craftsmanship from years of physical endurance, hands carefully reaching out to touch. Both of them were cautious, as if seeing a ghost, not knowing if this moment was real or not. Should they continue, or stop? Why were they even doing this?

It felt like an eternity had passed before one of them moved. Scared to look into each other’s eyes.

“Zenith…” she whispered in her deep voice, head still down.

He didn’t respond.

The Jedi fumbled a bit to find the courage she had in the conference room days ago, mouth starting to form words, and then failing only to attempt it again with no success. She remained frozen in place as she finally sighed. “I’ve never done this before,” she confessed.

Zenith wasn’t surprised. She was a Jedi after all.

“Only done this once,” he revealed hesitantly. It was best to be honest at this point.

They exchanged a few more words. Nothing memorable, just little promises of secrets to only stay theirs.

Time disappeared again into some vacuum of space leaving the two alone in the storage room.

The Jedi was the first to move, slow and easy, towards Zenith with her hands out to soon rest against his bare skin. She felt the dips of his chest and the taut muscles that expanded to his shoulders, then down his arms, to rest at his hands. She steadily held his hand and began to move it towards her chest, placing it on one of her breasts.

Zenith gently pulled his hand back, but didn’t take it down, just hovering over her and waiting. “Evesse,” he cautioned; a one word question asking for confirmation. Is this what you want?

She still held his hand with hers, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use my name before,” she whispered with a caring smile. 

A small frown crossed Zenith’s face, “Didn’t seem appropriate,” he said.

“Now’s a good a time as any,” she chuckled to herself.

Zenith didn’t laugh.

The storage room began to feel a lot colder while they silently stood together in the dim light that flowed in from the hallway. They were still separated from anyone’s view behind their towers of crates and shipment.

The Jedi slowly bent down and picked up her top and robe. She carelessly slipped her arms through the robe and gave it a loose tie at her waist. “I was terrified today,” she began, “I thought I was going to die. Were it not for Qyzen, I may not…” she trailed off.

Zenith had heard this kind of fear before from being on the field, running suicide missions, secret operations, etc. That special fear that tucked itself away after a long battle then surfaced to show its ugly face, giving a cold dose of reality to its bearer. 

Zenith was never good at comforting. When you face death so often, it becomes a regular part of your day. You grow numb and slip into an odd acceptance. It was something he grew up with, but the Jedi didn’t have that kind of conditioning.

“You’re here now,” he asserted. Knowing the moment had passed, Zenith reached for his shirt and jacket to slip them on.

She grew rigid, “Yes,” she whispered and pulled her herself together with Jedi Code and discipline. “I’m here now.”

They shared silence for a minute. Zenith slipped his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall, and the Jedi stared down at the floor with her arms crossed--both not sure how to process the other.

They both yearned for something they knew nothing about. Comfort in another person, a trusted connection. The desire was there, but how could they achieve it when they both had been fighting for so long? Zenith, forever alone on the battlefield, bitter, and distant. The Jedi, bound by a strict code of morality, destined to help others and never herself.

It’s all they knew. 

Loneliness.

How do you cope with years of combat training, war, emptiness, fear, and absent love? What do you do when you begin to crack from the pressure?

The Jedi sighed softly and looked passed Zenith to focus on the wall. She couldn’t meet eyes quite yet. “Will you come with me on my next mission?” she asked. Her tone had changed back into its normal serenity, “I just need to do a few favors I promised to some people back on the planet. It shouldn’t take too long.” 

“Yes,” Zenith replied.

So, he followed her into any and every battle, side by side they fought and flowed like an orchestrated dance.

After each mission, they would return to the ship and meet in various locations, hidden away from the crew and carefully watching eyes. Each meeting progressed more and more.

\-------

Zenith had the Jedi lifted onto a crate in the storage room, just right at waist level for him. Her lower robes were bunched up at her waist, legs spread open like wings as she took flight with him.

They pleasured each other, hands going to work, feeling for the first time on new limbs and warm folds, desperately searching for closure or release. She pumped him as he played with her, strained kisses and bites along the way over fully clothed bodies.

Calloused fingers pressed on wet skin, to dip into a pool and slowly curl, bringing forth muted whimpers against pale yellow skin. Zenith spread her open and used his thumb to massage the bundle of nerves that was hidden in her lips.

The Jedi’s face was nestled against Zenith’s neck, as his forehead rested against her shoulder, both of them panting and mumbling instructions to the other.

She fumbled with the rhythm of strokes in the beginning, but soon found it as Zenith guided her with thrusts and encouraging moans of “yes” into her ear, his hot breath tickling a sensitive spot on her neck and sending shivers through her body to light a fire deep in her. She moved faster.

Zenith responded in kind and increased his pace, swirling his thumb and roughly pumping his fingers inside her. His hand began to drip with more of her as she threw her head back and dug her nails into his bare neck.

Her face twisted into a empty cry, her beautiful agony, hair tumbling down her back and limbs going limp. The hand she had busy with Zenith fell away only to be replaced by his own.

As Zenith worked himself, the Jedi struggled to raise her body up fully. Once she did, she kissed him; only this time her kiss was different, it begged for something.

There was a certain sadness that came with her trembling touch, a kind that wished for a love that it couldn’t understand. It mingled with a saltiness that Zenith only knew as tears.

He came then, right on her stomach and stained her top. He moaned into her mouth as his brow pulled together. Failing to gain a steady breath, Zenith was forced to pull away for air when the Jedi’s head fell on his chest, her face working to wipe her tears on his shirt.

They remained there, panting and letting hands casually roam over the other’s body in a slow haze of the aftermath. The Jedi’s head was resting against Zenith’s chest as he petted her hair almost affectionately--it didn’t feel right saying he showed her affection.

As quickly as they found each other, they parted. She returned to her chambers as he to his, both not speaking until they met again in Zenith’s room after another long mission.

It continued on this way for months, passion play in corners of the ship, all the while hiding the emotional stress they both were under. Each time ending with tears that were wiped away and ignored. Zenith wanted to ask, but could never find the right words or moment to do so. 

\-------------

Nadia is lost on Corellia, brave enough to stay behind and gather information on the Imperial Dreadnaught. The crew has just finished up a meeting planning their next move, determined to slay the First Son and save Nadia.

During the meeting, Zenith could see the rage and pain in the Jedi’s eyes. He felt a pull in his chest at the sight, the unfamiliar feeling coaxed him to search for her afterwards in her room.

He gives a quick knock at the door, efficient and to the point.

The Jedi knows it’s Zenith at her door by his knock, like their secret call.

She slowly rises from her floor where she had been meditating, two candles flickering on either side of her bed cast a long shadow along the path she takes to the door.

As the door is sliding open she takes a breath and pulls a faint smile into place to greet Zenith. She meets his purple eyes with ease and steps aside to let him in, “What can I do for you, Zenith?” she asks with a cool tone.

Zenith locks eyes briefly and steps into the room slowly, taking in every aspect he can of the warm candle lit room. 

The ceiling fixtures are dimmed to create a relaxing ambiance and an herbal scent from candles fill the air. It was a smell Zenith recalled the Jedi calling ‘aromatherapy’ and said it stimulated her thinking. He concludes she was meditating, as he glances down to see a thin mat where she must have been kneeling. Across the room is her bed, large and well made, covered in dark sheets with two pillows, almost waiting to be fluffed and disturbed.

Zenith awkwardly looks from side to side, gesturing to the Jedi’s set-up, “Sorry for interrupting,” he says. 

She gently places a hand up to excuse him, “No apology is necessary,” she assures him. Carefully, she folds her hands in front of her after closing the door and steps to the opposite side of the room, “Is there something I can help you with?” she asks, but doesn’t face him.

This time is very different than the others. She’s distant and colder than usual, back to him and tightly clenching at her robe on her chest, as if it’s fighting to get away. Zenith can sense her scale tipping with each passing moment.

He sighs. He was never good at this kind of thing. “Wanted to check on you,” he mumbles, “See how you were doing.” Zenith takes a step towards her, but keeps his hands to himself. She doesn’t acknowledge his presence, and he feels that same twinge in his chest again.

The Jedi stares into a picture she has hanging on the wall, a beautiful scenic painting of Alderaan, and disappears into the serene landscape. “I’m doing fine, thank you for your concern,” she says with a robotic tone. 

When Zenith sees her like this, scared and held together with a strong stare and cold demeanor, he wants to fix her, but doesn’t know how. He also wants to be selfish and release his own frustration, but doesn’t know how. He wants to tell her she is a strong woman and he will protect her, that he wants to embrace her with a warmth only a lover could know, but he doesn’t know how. 

All he can say is, “You’re lying.”

She gives a heavy sigh and lets her shoulders drop and her arms fall to her sides, “Of course I am,” she mumbles. She turns around to reveal an empty expression.

He takes another step towards her, standing only a few inches away now, and tries to look her in the eyes. She keeps her stare focused on a point beyond Zenith. “I’m not very good at this,” he begins hesitantly, “but I want to,” he struggles to say the word, “comfort you.” He drags the last part of the sentence out, as if unsure of what the word ‘comfort’ even means.

The Jedi blinks in a mild state of confusion and finally looks Zenith directly in the eye. It appears as if she’s processing something by the way her brow worms about, like trying to dissect a hidden meaning. Her serious face returns, “Thank you for the concern, Zenith,” she begins coldly, “but I’m in no need of comforting today.” She attempts to storm off towards the door and open it, but Zenith catches her arm.

“Hey-that’s not what I meant,” he urges and pulls her back around. His grip is tight on her forearm as he tries to bring her in close, but the Jedi rips her arm away with those stern eyes fixed on him the whole time.

The Jedi unnecessarily adjusts her robes to keep her hands busy, “I need to meditate and figure a plan out,” she says, “I need to save Nadia…” Her hands come to her head and begin to massage at the pressure forming in her skull.

Zenith sighs and attempts to move closer again. “You can...talk to me,” he begins slowly, “if you need to.”

Carefully, the Jedi removes her hands from her head and meets Zenith’s gaze.

Zenith continues. “You’re a trustworthy person, and I trust you,” his voice begins to fade as he fumbles for his words, “and I want you to know you can trust me.”

She relaxes a little and gives a long sigh. She gingerly reaches for his hand, “Sit with me,” she says and escorts him to the bed. Still wearing her melancholy, she sits at the foot of the bed and encourages Zenith to sit beside her. The Jedi takes a big breath, “I’ve broken the Jedi Oath and I’m coming to terms with my actions. I feel as if I’ve abandoned all my values. I’ve given into passion and feelings, which has clouded my judgment and led to Nadia’s disappearance.” By now she had released Zenith’s hand and placed hers in her lap as she spoke.

Zenith leans in, “You can’t blame yourself for Nadia,” he whispers. An arm slowly wraps around the Jedi and rubs her shoulder. “She chose to stay behind,” he says with a bit more conviction, “you had no control over what happened to that escape pod.

“I should have commanded her to leave,” the Jedi says while fidgeting. Her hands once again work to soothe her growing headache, “She should listen to her Master.”

Zenith ponders her statement for a moment. “What would you have done were you in her position?” he asks. 

The Jedi processes his question with her head in her hands still. Upon her realization, she sighs in agreeance, “I would have done the same.”

Zenith nods and softens his embrace to let his arm slide behind the Jedi. “On Balmorra, when someone gave their life for a noble cause, we celebrated and honored them. To put the good of many, over yourself, was a great sacrifice. You should be proud of Nadia for taking such a stand, and proud knowing that you are the one that inspired her to be that brave. We will find her.”

They are silent for a short moment, eyes lock and peer deeply into the other trying to grasp for the right words to describe their feelings.

The Jedi cracks a small smile, “I needed to hear that, Zenith,” she says softly, “thank you.”

“Just call it like I see it,” he says and leans back onto his elbows.

“You’re very good at pep-talks,” the Jedi says. A gentle laugh is heard rumble in her chest, “I guess this is why I keep you around,” she jokes.

“Among other things,” Zenith casually says with a deadpan expression while keeping his stare fixed on the doorway.

His answer is unexpected and causes a flurry of butterflies to flutter in the Jedi’s tummy. She suddenly feels her blood rush and heart pound as she turns away from Zenith to stare at the same point on the door. Her face begins to warm up and she feels a strong urge to remove her robe for fear of overheating.

Quickly, she regains her composure and clears her throat, “W-what other things?” she asks.

“Never heard you stutter,” Zenith comments. “I’m around to keep you alive,” he answers, “trustworthy people are hard to come by.” With graceful ease, Zenith uses his core to lift himself up from where he was lounging, to put himself beside the Jedi once again.

The room begins to feel hot again, so the Jedi moves her hair off her neck and over to one shoulder, exposing her neck to Zenith who takes notice with a quick glance down. They both feel the rising heat and tension in the room.

“Zenith,” the Jedi begins, “lately, I’ve had these…” she pauses to search for the right words, “feelings, about you. More than just the physical one,” she clarifies.

It seems odd to actually talk about the things that have been happening between them. They never actually speak about it, just find solace and leave. 

Zenith looks away and responds with a slow nod. “I’ve felt that too,” he says. “When we were talking in the conference room about Nadia, I saw your face and the sadness you had, and I felt this pain,” he taps on his chest with a few solid thuds, “here.” He stares down at the floor, uncertain for where this conversation is going to take them.

The Jedi sighs and swallows a heavy lump in her throat, “I’m concerned, Zenith,” she says, “very concerned.”

His purple eyes meet hers in a state of worry.

The Jedi turns her body to face him, “These new feelings entice me to act strongly on the physical ones,” she says frantically, “and I’m afraid that this will lead me down the dark path, and I need to stay strong now, for everyone! I need to cope with this diff--”

Zenith kisses her mid-sentence with his hands worming through her hair. The kiss is strong, as if Zenith is trying his best to give the Jedi what strength he has via their connection. He releases them briefly for air.

“--erently than these moments of passion.” The Jedi picked up her sentence where she left off, but still participating in Zenith’s kiss. “All I want to do,” she’s interrupted by another kiss, “is act on these urges,” this time, a kiss on her jaw, “and touch you, and hold you.” Zenith plants another hard kiss on her mouth while hugging her close to intensify his feelings.

She pushes away this time, just to give herself a little breathing room, but still remains in his embrace. “I don’t know what to do,” she says, “I feel like this is wrong.”

Zenith releases his hold and rests his forehead against hers as his heavy breathing begins to slow. “Do you want to stop this?” he asks with a serious tone.

The Jedi is quite for only a second before responding. “No,” she says, “and that’s what scares me.”

With that said, she pushes herself against Zenith and closes their lips together once more in another wet kiss as they tumble down onto the bed.

Their bodies roll around, rustling up the blankets as boots are kicked off on the floor and jackets and robes tossed aside. Hands roam over bare skin to leave tiny nail marks and lingering tickles of warmth that kindled more heat in their kiss. Zenith begins quick work of her bar by pulling it over her head and freeing her breasts.

This wasn’t the first time he had seen her breasts, but each time felt like the first time. Seeing the reserved Jedi naked always sparked this feeling of awe and excitement in Zenith’s chest, like he is special to be given this access.

And to the Jedi, he is.

The Jedi now straddles Zenith and assists in pull his shirt over his head, to better push her chest against his naked skin. He’s on his back, hands groping the Jedi’s waist and working their way down to her rear where he gives a rough squeeze to grind her hips against his.

A soft moan escapes the Jedi and she grips his hard biceps in response, feeling the tight muscles flew underneath her touch. The bulge of muscles entices a growl from her as she forces her mouth against Zenith’s, wanting to hurt him in the best way, and giving in to the blossoming animalistic desires.

The pressure from the nails in his arms pumps more blood to Zenith’s groin, making him want more, and more friction. He squeezes the Jedi’s rear again and forces her hips to take a pace against his, the steady rhythm whetting his appetite.

Wanting more contact, Zenith slips his hands beneath the hem of the Jedi’s pants, and deeper still, to feel her bare skin. He pauses their motion so he can revel in the sensation of her soft flesh.

She takes this moment to start the work on his neck and shoulders, planting little kisses and nips along the way. Slowly, she slides down Zenith’s body and guides herself away from his hands to make her way down his chest and abdomen. When she reaches the spot under his belly button, she gives it special attention by massaging it with kisses and swirls of her tongue. 

Zenith lets his head relax against the Jedi’s fluffy pillows and gazes down at the woman in his lap. The yellow candle light warms up her skin nicely and makes her eyes glimmer in a special way as she looks back up at him with her hands efficiently popping open his pants and pulling him out. She freezes and fixes her eyes on Zenith’s face, diligently watching.

He takes a breath to steady himself. Her head has never been down there before. Sure, she’s felt him and gotten him off, but she’s never done that. The farthest they’ve gotten in these few months has been mostly naked and hands toying with the other. This was unexplored territory, for both of them.

The Jedi gives him a gentle squeeze to test him. Zenith responds with a throaty groan of approval. 

She carefully pumps him a few times before slipping him into her mouth.

Zenith has never felt anything quite like a Jedi’s warm mouth swallowing him whole. It’s so wet and inviting in her throat that he can’t help but thrust up, his head spinning from the rush. Instinctively, his hand goes to her hair and grips lightly to guide her along a rhythm.

He’s gentle with her, but it’s a struggle. The sight of disappearing into her mouth drives him crazy, the slow sliding out, and then in, the sheen of saliva glistening in the warm light.

Zenith feels his breathing quicken along with the strong desire to force her head down to satisfy the heat pooling in his belly. He’s getting close. Quickly, he taps her shoulders and pulls her head up and off him.

The Jedi looks slightly confused, not knowing why she was stopped. She looks at Zenith’s face and sees a strained look, biting his lip and shaking off a ghost of tension as he calms his breathing.

The Jedi panics, “Did I hur-”

“No,” Zenith cuts her off harshly, fighting back a groan. Oh, it was quite the opposite.

She seems to understand and moves back up to kiss him fully on the lips, slightly pleased with herself even though she would never let it show.

Grabbing her waist, Zenith flips her over so she is pinned under him, his hardness pressing into her hip. He lifts one of her legs up to wrap around his waist as his free hand tenderly brushes her cheek. He kisses her slow and deep, slipping his tongue in her mouth and playing with hers as he lovingly brushes her hair behind her ear.

The Jedi’s hands begin to push Zenith’s pants farther down his hips. He momentarily pulls away to remove them and is quickly back to her, kissing her lips and then her neck while working her pants as well to slip everything off. Once they were both naked, Zenith upright on his knees straddling the Jedi, as she lay beneath him, they took in the sight of each other.

Carefully, Zenith places his hand on the Jedi’s hip and trails his calloused fingers up her abdomen, amazed at how soft her skin is there despite the battles and training. He continues upward and soon fills his hand with her breast, rubbing her nipple between his fingers.

The Jedi’s breathing hitches as she bites her bottom lip. The pleasure is foreign but welcomed all the same. She squirms under his touch, back arching slightly wanting more, praying for him to suck on her.

Zenith answers her prayer and bends down and gives her nipple a gentle suck and bite, his teeth applying pressure in response to her low moans. One hand on her breast, his mouth on the other, leaves his hand free to slip between her legs--familiar territory.

His fingers push aside her lips and tease the damp flesh with a gentle massage as he gives her another bite. She whimpers at the mild pain and inhales sharply while trying to find something to grip onto. Her hands find Zenith’s shoulders and arms again and grope the large muscles. A quiet growl erupts in her throat as she feels Zenith’s arms, shoulders, and back.

Zenith moves up to give the Jedi another deep kiss as his hand between her legs becomes his focus. His thumb slowly swirls around her sensitive bundle of nerves and she shutters. He moves his hand upward and replaces his thumb with his middle finger and swirls with more pressure and precision.

The Jedi tries to bury her face in the pillows under her, but Zenith turns her face back to his which hovers above her. His eyes watch her, her expression, the way it pinches together when he works faster, and the way her eyes soften after a soft groan. He loves watching her face.

With his hand still toying with her, Zenith moves his body down and positions his head between her legs. He looks up to his Jedi and see her face turn more red at the implications. 

He smirks, “Returning the favor,” he says.

His fingers slip down and teasingly press into her, not fully, but enough to make her arch her hips up. Zenith sees the opportunity and seizes her folds in his mouth to suck and slip his tongue between them.

The Jedi gasps at the sudden warm, wet contact and soon finds the incredible pleasure behind the surprise. Her head pushes back into the pillow, back arches, hands fist the sheets beneath them, as she rides on the sensation.

Zenith is uncertain of what exactly to do, so he starts off with a steady up and down motion of his tongue and gages the Jedi’s responses. Her squirming and moans inspires him to increase his speed and adds his fingers into her depths with even thrusts. She gives him more moans, and something Zenith thinks is a mumbled swear.

He continues on, tongue darting back and forth, then swirling in circles till the Jedi gives him the okay. “Right there,” she whispers. Zenith stays to direct his focus on her special spot, all the while pumping her with more fingers.

Zenith manages to glance up and see his Jedi’s face again, flushed with mouth agape and moaning a little too loudly for the moment. 

The Jedi’s hand begins to wander over to Zenith’s head, but recoils when her shyness stops her. In a flash, Zenith’s free hand grabs hers and pulls her in, insisting she touch him. She rests her hand on top his head between his lekku, softly dragging her nails over his skin.

The delicate strokes on his head send shivers through his body and entices a strong desire to suck harder. The Jedi inhales sharply and whimpers as her petting ceases and she pushes his face against her wetness.

Hunger rages through Zenith’s mind now as animal instinct takes him over, fingers thrusting deep as he sucks and tickles with his tongue. She cums hard, head whipping side to side, nails digging into Zenith’s scalp as gasps and whimpers fill the room.

She’s breathing hard as she comes down from her high, her face lying against the pillow. Zenith wipes his mouth and nestles closely against her side, propping himself up with an elbow as his other hand brushes the Jedi’s hair from her dewed forehead, her panting tickling his chest.

“I want more,” she says in a worn voice.

Zenith runs his fingers through her hair, “You sure?” he asks.

She nods as she pulls him down to her for another kiss. “Yes,” she whispers.

He positions himself over her, legs spread open with her knees against his waist and his hands drawing little circles on them. Zenith eases himself into place. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says.

The Jedi reaches up to him and he comes down to meet her touch. She carefully holds his face for a passionate kiss. She can feel a lingering dampness on his chin. “I want you, Zenith,” she says.

Zenith kisses her back and rests his forehead against hers as he gently enters her. They both let the moment take them and drag it out as long as possible. As Zenith slips in he can feel every muscle contract around him, so tight and hot, a feeling he wants to live in forever. The Jedi’s lips quiver as she’s slowly filled and stretched to fit him.

Once Zenith’s fully embedded they release a moan in unison, eyes fluttering and trying to maintain eye contact. Zenith licks his lips and places another kiss on his Jedi as he begins his rhythmic rocking. 

He’s slow at first, merely grinding his hips against hers to test. “You okay?” he moans mid-pant.

The Jedi’s eyes have closed as she basks in the feeling. “I heard that it would hurt the first time,” she whispers, “I feel only pleasure.”

“Good,” Zenith says and picks up his pace. He then begins to thrust, hips rolling back and forward to glide back into her sweet warm body.

They both give into the euphoric sensations, becoming more vocal with each deeper thrust. Zenith attempts a messy kiss, only to be thwarted by his own moaning. The Jedi wraps her arms and legs around him and buries her face in nook of his shoulder and neck.

Zenith pulls her head back down and cradles the side of her head in his hand. He rubs his forehead against hers as he takes one of her legs in the crook of his elbow to get a deeper angel. He thrusts in her and her eyes roll back. “I like seeing your face,” he confesses and continues to rock his hips against her.

She gives him a good show. The faster he moves the more her brow scrunches, eyes glaze over with lust, mouth opens and pants with flushed cheeks. Her face is enough to make him cum. The Jedi gives a loud groan, which Zenith answers with his own. 

Zenith has to steady his breathing, “I’m close,” he stammers.

“Zenith!” she cries weakly, trying to hold back, “I-I’m--I’m!” 

He knows, and abandons his restraints to finish strong and power into her. She cums with a full body shutter and Zenith does the same. They remain connected as they come down. He tries to hold himself up with his elbow, but gives up and rolls to the side of the Jedi.

They lay in the dim lights breathing slowly, bodies sweaty and tired with sheets thrown about them. They don’t look at each other or say anything.

The Jedi is the first to speak, “Zenith?” she asks while staring at the ceiling.

“Yes,” Zenith replies and looks to his side. He sees tear stains down the sides of the Jedi’s face, but didn’t know when they first appeared.

She gulps and begins searching for the right words. “Is this what love feels like?” she inquires, hoping Zenith can give her closure. She pulls the sheets up to cover herself and grips them tightly at her neck.

Zenith turns back and stares at the ceiling as well. He sighs and pulls the sheets around his waist. A hand crosses his chest and rests over his heart, as if trying to beg it to answer the question for him. “Yes, I think so,” he utters.

The Jedi’s bottom lip begins to quiver and her hand goes to her face to silence it. She inhales slowly to calm her emotions. “I’ve betrayed everything I’ve ever known,” she chokes out. She swallows a heavy lump in her throat, “There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no passion, there is serenity,” she quoted, “That’s part of the Jedi Code.”

Zenith turns back to her and sees the distressed look on her face. She wasn’t crying, but fresh tears were streaming down. “Is that why you cry?” he carefully probes.

She ignores him.

He doesn’t know what to say or how to console her. Can he even hold her now? Being with her has brought him so much relief and it hurts him to see how he has brought her the opposite.

“This love has brought me confusion,” she declares.

Zenith stares at her, willing her to look at him. “This love has brought me peace,” he challenges.

She finally turns over to him and sees the conviction in his eyes.

“Being with you has put some things in perspective for me, and…” Zenith trails off. “I’m done living in the past,” he says, “Future is what matters--Balmorra’s, and mine.”

The Jedi gives him a quizzical look, she’s touched but confused all the same.

“I’m Opposition Leader now, Nalan Fiskin lost,” he says.

The Jedi sits up and inches closer to Zenith. “That’s great news!” she exclaims, “I’m sure Nalan Fiskin isn’t too pleased,” her tone is lighter now.

Zenith sits up with a smirk. “He’s not happy, which makes me happy,” he chuckles, “Balances out.”

The Jedi smiles with him through her tears and tucks some hair behind her ear. Her smile drops a little in a moment of realization. “If you’re Opposition Leader now, does that mean you’ll be returning to Balmorra?” she questions, with a hint of sadness in her voice.

Zenith shakes his head, “No. I can work in absentia, until you’re done gallivanting around,” he jokes.

The Jedi gives another soft smile and brings her knees to her chest. “I’m happy you’ll stay,” she whispers. Her chin rests on her knees as she finds that familiar spot on the door to stare at.

“Of course,” Zenith assures, “Like I said, future is what matters.” He scoots closer to the Jedi so his body is pressed right against hers. “I was hoping my future could include you,” he tilts his head down a little so to better meet her eyes. 

She doesn’t respond to him.

“I believe,” Zenith begins, “that you can find serenity in passion.” He waits for her to respond but she doesn’t. “You’re letting fear confuse you, guide you--I did the same. At least, that’s how I was until you came along,” he acknowledges.

“Zenith,” the Jedi murmurs, “the emotional attachment is dangerous--”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he interrupts. “How can something that has given me serenity, be dangerous?”

“It clouds my judgment.”

“The fear of accepting this is what’s clouding your judgment,” Zenith retorts.

She sighs in frustration and pinches the bridge of her nose. They are silent for a few moments until she turns to the side and faces Zenith.

“I’m scared I won’t be strong enough to protect you anymore if I become weak from this,” she confesses.

Zenith could handle his own just fine, and he knows that the Jedi is familiar with his proficiencies. But, he gives into her. “You can still protect me,” he urges her, “But who will protect you?” His tone jumps a little higher as he tries to reason with the Jedi.

“I’m a Jedi,” she asserts with a finger pointing to herself, “I do the protecting.”

Zenith scoffs and folds his arms, “Jedi have breaking points, you know that.” The last few words feel like a direct shot at the Jedi, whose eyes drop down to watch her hands fiddle with one another. Zenith sighs and realizes his mistake and reaches out to hold her hands. “Who will be there for you, when you’ve reached that breaking point,” he asks softly.

She’s quiet for a moment and doesn’t meet his gaze. She clears her throat and mouths some empty words before finding the strength to speak. “My guess is you will,” she concludes.

“Yes, I will,” Zenith confirms and gives her hands a tight squeeze, “As I already have been.”

The Jedi pulls a hesitant smile into place and moves to lay back down in the bed, leaving Zenith space to lay with her, which he accepts. She finds a perfect fit in the crook of his arm and nestles against his chest. “You’ll need to give me time to accept this,” she adds, “I’m still very nervous.”

“Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you, Zenith.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr http://lilithleelynn.tumblr.com/


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